


Wild Things

by whiry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, boys having feelings, kinda pre-slash too, might not make sense bc i wrote it in like 10 mins, some people are dead and it's sad but i try not to talk about it bc its hella sad, super short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiry/pseuds/whiry
Summary: Here is where he could live as a wild thing, here is where someone loved him best of all.





	Wild Things

Derek grows up with the belief that he is a monster, and that is the only thing he knows to be true. His family is all dead and he’s responsible, and he’s killed his uncle and then his betas, and though Cora comes back, he knows she’ll be dead soon too, if he doesn’t get here out of Beacon Hills, away from him. Isaac and Chris go to Paris, three weeks after Allison’s death and four days after the funeral, and Cora goes South to her former pack, where Derek can stay in touch with her, but also can’t harm her. He and Cora and Isaac all talk nearly every day, but they’re each in a different continent with different lives, and he can’t ask them to remember him. He goes two years without seeing Isaac, one without seeing Cora, when they finally tell him they’re together, now in Washington state, engaged and pregnant, and invite him up for a weekend. Isaac tells Derek he thinks it’s going to be a girl, and Derek cries, and Cora hugs him tightly and cries into his chest, too. They’re going to call her Laura, and she’s a werewolf for sure—Derek can smell it. Then Cora mentions a pup of his own, and he can’t help but think of Stiles’ eyes on a little pup, tiny fangs peeking out of Stiles’ lips.

Of course it’s Stiles, though. Ever since they met he could only think of how Stiles smelled, how his eyes looked, how he was. He was always drawn to the kid, and pushed him away harder than anyone else because of how deep his feelings ran, but despite everything, Stiles was the only one who ever came back. He asked Derek about his family, talked to Cora on the phone, baked his own mother’s special cookies on Derek’s birthday. He helped build a new home in the forest, helped teach the betas control, teach Derek control, became an Emissary to the Hale pack. He stayed when Erica and Boyd and Isaac and Scott and Jackson didn’t. He stayed when Peter and Cora didn’t. He stayed when Derek didn’t want him to stay. He stayed. That’s why Derek was drawn to him.

He finds himself deep in thought about his family and future children when he walks past Stiles’ bedroom one night, the one in the pack house where Stiles happens to spend most of his time, despite having an apartment of his own, much closer to the police station than Derek’s house in the middle of the Preserve. Most of the rest of the pack have built their own houses out here, only a mile or less away from Derek’s. He bought the land, a lot of it, and helped them build their dream houses to raise their families, close enough to pack and big enough for expansion. Stiles stands the only member without a house of his own, and even though Derek has offered, Stiles always smiled and laughed and said he’s always preferred the Hale house the most.

Stiles is sitting on his bed, a child tucked into either side, one of Lydia and Jackson’s, and one of Scott and Kira’s, and he’s reading from a picture book.

“‘…and when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws till Max said “BE STILL!” and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things,’” Stiles read in his deep voice, growling and snarling whenever the situation demanded it. The children squealed and giggled, pointing at pictures and nuzzling close, and Derek thought that maybe he was a wild thing, with terrible roars and terrible teeth and terrible eyes and terrible claws. And if he was a wild thing, it was Stiles who tamed him, who stared unblinking into his eyes, blue or red or green, and told him he was no monster, no abomination, that he was able and deserving of love. And maybe Stiles was a wild thing, too, an untamable Spark that could make things happen by pure willpower, that could run with wolves, that could tame a wild thing. If Derek himself was a wild thing, then Stiles was definitely the most wild thing of all.

“‘And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all,’” Stiles had continued, pausing for a moment to glance up, meeting Derek’s eyes, holding them in place, taming the wild thing in him. And here is where Derek is loved, standing in the doorway to Stiles’ bedroom, watching him read aloud in silly voices and snarl and growl, staring into the eyes of the one thing more wild than himself, letting himself be tamed. Here is where he could live as a wild thing, here is where someone loved him best of all.

**Author's Note:**

> so it's super short and i wrote it very quickly and it's un-beta'd, so I'm sure there's mistakes, but I recently re-read "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak and remembered how much I loved it and how it kinda sorta fit sterek, so here we are. 
> 
> let me know if there are any issues, please and thank you!
> 
> tumblr: http://provokiing.tumblr.com/


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